I’m standing at a threshold...

Two narrow hallways stretching out before me. Darkness at my back.

Stepping towards the left, I can feel the walls to the right of me sighing. I walk through and try to see what's happening, but nothing is in focus. Myopia clouds my brain and better judgments. I use my hands feel my way deeper into the unknown corridor.

I move closer, hungry, beckoned by the promise of quinoa and blackberries in the fridge. I feel for a light switch and open my eyes. I’ve been here before. It’s a kitchen. My kitchen. Desaturated. Older. Deserted.

I move backwards as the lights flicker and fade around me. Only one hallway remains - it's shorter than before. I enter the common area, hoping for signs of life. No luck - only a quarter inch of dust blanketing the furniture, like new December snow. I step inside; asbestos coats my face.

I find myself peaking out through the breach. Below are only skeletons, frozen mid-stride, some embracing, others crouching.

In the distance, I hear a siren and chilling applause. “It’s over now, isn’t it?” I utter compulsively. “Yes,” the girl in the glass replies. I pick up a small fragment of the broken window, my distorted reflection grins back at me.